It’s cold, so he wears gloves. He’s trying out new ‘looks’ lately, so they’re leather. Well… the vegan equivalent of leather at any rate. Soft, black, expensive. They cushion and protect his palms when he thwacks me on the arse.
I didn’t initially consider how these gloves would feel against my naked bum, that was his idea. Late in the evening, at my place, not long before he had to head off home.
I hadn’t expected to get fucked that night, we only went to grab a quick dinner – wringing a few more drops of time together during a period when I have so little time to spare. I usually manage to find extra time for him, though. Even if it’s just an hour or two to chat over pasta and olives in a restaurant with music that’s far too fucking loud.
Then a snatched extra twenty minutes as he walked me home. Nice chance to chat and flirt and hold hands, why not?
Then how about a quick nightcap? Yeah sure.
A cheeky spliff? Rude not to.
Then maybe, oh, how about… how about you pull down your jeans and knickers and bend over in front of that mirror on the wall in your living room? Why don’t you brace yourself with your palms against the plaster while I spank you with black leather gloves?
Don’t mind if I do.
It came as a surprise, that first smack. The soft interior of the gloves provides a padded cushion, meaning that the sting of the leather is dampened slightly – maximum noise for minimum pain. And minimum pain means he can do something I’m always desperate for but usually cannot quite handle: he can hit me hard.
“Go for it,” I tell him. “Give me all you’ve got.”
And he grins darkly, making eye contact in the mirror that sits on the wall that’s far too thin between my flat and the neighbours’, caressing my naked bottom with the buttery, supple fabric of the gloves. Then
– thwack –
He lands a really intense blow. The sound of it echoes round my living room like a whip crack.
– thwack –
Another. And now I’m worried that the neighbours might hear, so I bite my lip to keep from crying out.
Again and again, he alternates palm-heavy smacks against my vulnerable arse, until now I’m getting turned on by the thought that the neighbours might hear. Simultaneously aroused and embarrassed, I arch my back and stick my bum out further, encouraging. Teasing. Bratting slightly, why not?
I wriggle under the smacks, and revel in how perfectly this particular implement – the leather glove – fits with what I want from a spanking. I want to be hit hard. Not because I like pain, I’m a precious princess and my body is annoyingly fragile when it comes to impact play. More because I like the knowledge that he can really swing his arm and put his back into it when he hits me.
It’s why I usually prefer to be thrashed with a canvas belt instead of a leather one. The leather makes all the right noises (crack!) and leaves wonderful marks if it’s wielded right, but if you swing your arm back to dispense a truly punishing stroke, I can probably only take about two or three. Or one, followed by a swift and unsexy ‘ouch fuck shit sorry stop ouch.’ Canvas belts don’t run into the same problems – especially if you double them over twice so they are thick and heavy. A nice ‘thwock’ and a red mark, but no bruising, and pain that sits low enough on my tolerance scale that I can take six or ten without weeping.
The leather gloves serve exactly the same function, but for his hands. Where a bare palm would sting too much, the leather allows for a cushion. Spreading the pain out, smoothing and dampening it. So he can go at my bare arse with the same vigour he’d usually use to smack me through jeans.
And it is fucking incredible.
Even more incredible is being able to watch him as he does it. Neck tilted upwards, craning so I can see in the mirror how hard he’s about to bring his hand down. This is why I have so many mirrors in my house: anywhere and everywhere I might fuck, there’s a mirror. I love to watch someone’s face while we’re fucking. Love to see his face while we’re fucking. That little moment of realisation – the shiver of glee – when he winds up for a really solid crack. Meanwhile I’m forcing my body to relax as much as possible, so when he lands the smack my arse is good and soft – all the better to jiggle and soak up the impact.
When he’s done making my arse bright red, he unzips his jeans. Tells me:
“Stay right there,” and “good girl,” as he frees that fat, straining cock.
He lines it up, pressing the head against the soaking wet entrance to my cunt, and at this point my knees are shaking and my hamstrings straining to hold myself at the perfect angle. Earlier he’d instructed me to cross my feet – the better to present a heart-shaped target for him to spank. Now, as he enters me, I’m struggling to stay balanced, even with both my hands flat against the wall. The crossed legs and tension involved in holding this position gives enough resistance in my cunt that when he pushes it inside, he grunts.
I mewl a little, and am rewarded with another sharp thwack on the flank with one of those leather-gloved hands. I nod, getting the message, and put one hand over my own mouth to stop more sound from slipping out – disturbing the neighbours and earning me yet another punishment. It’s a trade-off though because with only one hand free now I’m even further off balance, and every muscle in my body is taut with the effort of standing.
I sense this is good for him, though, because he fucks me quick and brutal with short, sharp strokes. They thud into me with the same energy that his hands landed on my arse a few minutes earlier.
In very short order, at the sight of me biting my lip and screwing up my face in concentration, showing him just what a very good girl I am capable of being, he speeds up in anticipation of coming.
But one more treat for me before he fills me up: just as he realises he’s about to come, he reaches forward with those butter-soft leather-gloved hands, and places them a safe distance below my neck. Resting firmly – on my collarbone, so as not to choke or do harm – but tight enough to remind me exactly who is in charge.
With those sinister, dextrous gloved hands, he tugs my body backwards onto his cock, bouncing me down the shaft and using me like a Fleshlight as he milks out every last, hot drop of his cum.
Note: I’ve had plenty of loud adventures in my living room, and heard the occasional non-sex noises from next door. I assure you, unless I let rip with outright screaming, my neighbours definitely cannot hear me fuck.